Love Out of Order (Indigo Love Spectrum) Read online

  “No, you don’t.”

  I laughed. “No, I don’t. But I should.”

  “You definitely should. So did you tell Astoria and Suse?” “Are you kidding?”

  “I didn’t think so. All done,” Tia said, handing my lip gloss to me. I went over to my full-length mirror to apply it while she went to find me a sweater.

  “I know they’re just trying to look out for me, but they’re driving me crazy. I’m twenty-four. I can look out for myself, thank you,” I said, heading back to the bathroom to smooth out my edges. I took a moment to admire the job Tia had done with my makeup before picking up my flat iron. She’d used the warm tones, which looked best on me.

  “Yeah, I know,” Tia said. She stood in the doorway. “Your sweater’s on the bed.”

  “Okay,” I said, rubbing oil onto my scalp. “You think I’m crazy?”

  “Yes.” She laughed.

  I grinned. It didn’t make sense to me, either, but I had to go talk to him. Guys didn’t just grab you and kiss you every day. Guys who had broken up with their hot, near-model girlfriends for apparently no reason. Especially those guys.

  * * *

  John waited for me outside of our classroom after Evidence.

  “You look nice,” he said with a tentative smile.

  I simply nodded even though inside I was eating up his compliment. “Where do you want to go?”

  He shrugged.

  “Just pick a place. I have a lot to do today. ”

  “How about that coffee shop? The one near Carytown we went to a few times?”

  I didn’t say a word the whole way to his car or on the drive to the coffee shop. He kept glancing at me nervously. I wasn’t giving him any encouragement to talk. He was the one who had wanted to meet. I just hoped it wouldn’t be like the last time he wanted to talk. But, things were shaping up to be different this time. I was just wondering how different.

  We got to the place, ordered and picked a table. John went up to get our coffee when it was ready.

  “So?” I took a sip of my latté.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been a jackass and I know that doesn’t begin to cover the explanation I owe you. But I’ll start with the short answer. I was afraid of what I felt—well, feel—for you.”

  “Huh?” He was going to have to explain better than that.

  “I know that sounds stupid. But listen. Denise, I’ve liked you ever since I first saw you in Evidence. You’re funny. Pretty. Smart. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  “You mean black?”

  He laughed. “No, I don’t mean black. I know. I don’t really hang around a lot of black people. And it’s one of the things that intimidated me. I’m trying to explain. Don’t make that face. I know I’m doing a bad job, but just hear me out.

  “At first, I made up that excuse about studying. And the more time I spent around you, the more I wanted to be with you. But I felt like it was wrong. I had a girlfriend. We’re really different people. Please, just let me finish before you say anything. We are. You know we are.

  “My parents have always been weird about the type of girls I bring home. I knew they’d like Sasha. I think part of the reason I was with her so long was because it was easy with her and with them—”

  “You were with her because she’s hot,” I interrupted, rolling my eyes.

  John sighed. He reached across the table and touched my arm. I hated the way he could make my heart stop with one touch.

  “Yes. She’s hot. To deny that would be stupid, but she’s not what I wanted. I had never found what I wanted until I met you. You complicated things,” John said. He paused, took a deep breath and looked up into my eyes. “I was going to propose to Sasha this Christmas. My parents would have been thrilled.

  “Anyway, it was hard for me to realize that my feelings for you were not going to go away. And harder to realize I didn’t want them to. At first, I tried to pretend you weren’t interested. Then I couldn’t pretend anymore because I could see it was mutual. Then I tried to make myself think you weren’t the right type of girl for me. But the truth is, I’m just not good enough for you. I’ve never been.

  “You don’t care about what people think. You do what you want to do. You see people. You want to be around them because you see who they really are and you like them. Not for who they are and what they can do for you. Most of the people in my life before you treated me like an asset and not a person.

  “You have a good personality and such a good heart. You’re the type of person I want to be. The type of person I want to be with. Because you make me better, despite how hard I try to resist it.

  “I have no reason to believe you’d want to be with me after how I’ve acted. Or even that you’d want to be my friend. But I want to be with you. I can’t hide it anymore. And I don’t want to.”

  I was speechless. I sat there with my mouth hanging open and no Astoria there to close it for me.

  “But Sasha was here last week.” I sounded like anidiot. Why couldn’t anything witty and cutting and perfect come out of my mouth? I should have made him feel like he had me feel that night I went to his house after the karaoke competition. And then walked out, leaving him there feeling stupid. But the only part of me I could move was my mouth, and, obviously, I could barely move that.

  “Yeah. Yeah, she was. And that’s what made me see I couldn’t do it anymore. After a weekend of her parading around and treating me like I was tradable on the stock market, I pretty much knew it was over. I kept looking at her and trying to find a good reason why I was trying to save our relationship, but I couldn’t come up with one. I realized just how shallow our whole relationship had been. Nothing she did made me feel the way you make me feel.

  “But I was still reluctant to call it quits. She was my first serious girlfriend. I mean, I kept thinking there had to be some reason I spent three years with her besides her being fun to hang out with and we liked to do a lot of the same stuff. I kept trying to find reasons to be in love with her, and I couldn’t. It’s scary to realize you don’t love someone you wanted to spend the rest of your life with just a few weeks earlier.

  “Then, after Sasha got back to Boston, my mom called to tell me all about how Sasha had come over and they had talked about Sasha’s weekend here. Then my mom started dropping hints about how nice it would be to have her for a daughter-in-law. And telling me about this family heirloom she wanted me to give my fiancée when I picked someone. Even though I was going to propose, I got kinda pissed. I started realizing how truly sick I was of having my life planned out for me. Right down to my wife. A wife I don’t love.

  “So, I called Sasha after I got off the phone with my mom and ended it. She didn’t take it well. She threatened to come back down here this weekend,” John said.

  “It’s Thanksgiving break. She could see you in a day or so,” I said. Why couldn’t I have at least scrounged up some sarcasm?

  “Yeah. I pointed that out to her and that she had just been here two days ago,” John said. “But then I finally had to admit to her I wasn’t coming home for Thanksgiving and she said she was coming here.”

  “You’re not going home for Thanksgiving?”

  “Nah. I don’t go home a lot,” John said, toying with his coffee cup. “The last time I was home was early last summer. I spent most of the summer in Bucharest, and other random places in Eastern Europe.”

  “Don’t they miss you?”

  John waved his hand in front of him in a way connoting his lack of concern. “I’ll see them at Christmas.”

  I wondered about his answer, but I didn’t push him.

  “You still haven’t told me what you think about any of this, Denise. Do you want to be with me? Come on, fill me in.”

  “John, this is too much. I mean, you’ve been acting so shady lately.”

  “I explained all of that to you. Don’t make this more complicated than it is. I know you’re pissed. I know you’re hurt. But I can’t fix it unless you let me. Tell me
how you feel about me. If you don’t want me, I’m gone.”

  I almost laughed. Yeah. Right. That was why I’d been having seven different kinds of fits daily. But could I trust him?

  “Stop it. You know I want you and you’re loving it,” I said, breaking away from him and picking up my coffee. It was cold. I drank it anyway.

  He laughed, looking relieved.

  “So am I coming to meet the fam?” he asked.

  I choked on my latté. “What?” I rasped, reaching for a napkin. “I’m going home tomorrow. We started dating two minutes ago.”

  “But we’ve known each other since August. We’ve wanted to be together since then. Oh, don’t even try it. You know we have.”

  “I don’t believe in love at first sight.”

  “You don’t have to love someone to want to be with them.”

  “Whatever.”

  “So, is it go home with you or fast food for Thanksgiving?”

  “I guess home with me. I can’t let you be poisoned,” I said.

  He laughed.

  “I’m warning you. I don’t live in no mansion. And you’re probably going to have to sleep on the futon in the den because my uncle has the guest room.”

  “Fine.” John shrugged, staring at me, smiling.

  I stared back, narrowing my eyes. It was impossible to figure him out. I didn’t know how I felt about that. “What?”

  “I just want to look at you. Is that okay? I haven’t seen you look at me, smiling, in too long,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes and picked up my coffee cup.

  Chapter 11

  THANKSGIVING BREAK

  John had Ral drop him off at my apartment Wednesday afternoon. He walked up to me as I was packing the last of my things to take home into my little Sentra. Stuffing them in, actually. There were two months worth of laundry, all my school stuff, an old desktop a friend had given me for my mom because my mom’s computer had blown up, and some other stuff.

  He wrapped his arms around me and pressed his cheek to my shoulder. I melted into him. I could get used to that kind of thing.

  “Hi,” I said.

  He kissed my cheek. “Hi.”

  “You ready?”

  He picked his bag up off the asphalt. “Let’s go.”

  We got in, and John had many jokes about my little car. To be fair, he was pretty scrunched up in there even after pushing the seat back as far as it would go. The metal track that allowed the seat to move back and forth was warped, so it wouldn’t even go back as far as Nissan originally intended.

  Conversation became more and more scant as we neared Derring County. I think we were both nervous about what would happen when we got there. I don’t think we thought about it much until that point. We hadn’t really had a lot of time to think about it. I kept making up excuses to myself about why I hadn’t told my parents John was coming home with me and ignoring the real reason—fear of their reaction. John kept glancing at me furtively. I noticed because I kept watching him out of the corner of my eye, not daring to turn and look at him. Neither of us wanted to discuss how crazy we were being.

  “Okay, John, obviously they don’t know you’re coming, so . . . this might be awkward,” I said, turning to him with a sigh as I killed the engine.

  He smiled and kissed my closed lips. “That’s cool. I’m with you. That’s all I really want right now. I can deal with a little awkwardness.”

  I smiled back tensely. I’d mentioned John once, but I hadn’t mentioned we were dating, or that he was white. I didn’t think my parents cared about that stuff, but I wasn’t sure.

  “Okay. Let’s go,” I said, grabbing my purse and opening my door. John got out as well. We headed for the front door. He reached for my hand, but I pulled it away. I saw him give me a strange look out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t turn to him.

  I figured knocking would be less of a shock to my parents than me just barging in with John on my arm. So I knocked. My mother opened the door.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said, wrapping my arms around her in a huge hug.

  “Hi, honey.” I could hear the confusion in her voice. And see it in my father’s eyes over her shoulder.

  “Hey, Dad. Mom, Dad, this is John,” I said. Time to get it over with.

  I stepped inside and John followed.

  “Hi,” my mother said to John with a strained smile. She then gave me a look that said, Who is that white boy and why did he walk into my house with you?

  “Mom, I told you about John. Remember?”

  “Denise, dear, I want you to come to the kitchen with me for a minute. We’ll be right back, boys,” she said, still staring me down.

  I followed her into the kitchen, making a point of avoiding John’s eyes.

  “You did not tell me about him. Who is that sitting in my living room?” Mom hissed as soon as we were in the kitchen.

  “I did tell you,” I insisted, but I knew it wasn’t really true. “I told you about John from my class—”

  “You told me one time about John you study with. Why would John you study with be in my house the day before Thanksgiving? With you?” My mom would have been screaming; I knew it. But thankfully she thought better of it with John on the other side of the door.

  “It’s kind of a long story. But we just started dating yesterday.”

  “Yesterday?”

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds. We’ve known each other all semester. I told you it was a long story.”

  “I have time. Now to start this long story, go back to you started dating yesterday and please explain to me why you brought him home for Thanksgiving.”

  “Mom—”

  “Where is he going to sleep, Denise? You know your uncle has the guest room. And I haven’t cleaned for company. I was only expecting family. And you’ve only been dating for a day. What has gotten into you?”

  I stared at her. I didn’t know how to answer. What I’d done didn’t make much sense, she was right. But I couldn’t help thinking that at least she didn’t seem to have a problem with the race thing. She hadn’t mentioned it. At least not yet.

  “Denise? You better answer me,” she said in that youbetter-or-else tone.

  “Well, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. He lives in Connecticut and he didn’t want to go home for Thanksgiving. I mean he just broke up with his girlfriend and he—”

  “What?”

  “I keep telling you it’s a long story, Mom. I’ll explain it all later. Just please don’t kick him out?”

  My mom laughed. A little confused, but very relieved, I said nothing.

  “No, what kind of person would I be? Kicking him out? But you have a lot to explain. This isn’t like you,” Mom said.

  I silently agreed with her. I’d been doing a lot of things that weren’t like me in the past few months.

  “We’re starting dinner in a few minutes. Yes, you’re going to help me cook, Denise. It’s the least you can do after what you’ve pulled. And it’ll give you time to tell me that long story of yours. But first, I’m going to go out here and properly introduce myself to that poor boy. He probably thinks I’m as crazy as you are.”

  We went back out to the living room. I felt sorry for poor John. He sat on the couch with my dad. The two of them had obviously been making painfully slow small talk about football. Some game was on the television.

  “Hi, John. I’m sorry about that introduction earlier, but my daughter didn’t tell me we were having company. I was caught off guard. I’m Lisa. Denise’s mother.” My mom held out her hand.

  John shook it. “That’s okay,” John said with his melty grin as he took her hand. Hopefully it worked on parents as well as it worked on me. “I was just telling your husband what a nice place you two have. Thanks for having me on such short notice.”

  “Oh, no problem. I’m just sorry we don’t have a room for you.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind. This couch seems very comfortable.” “Oh, it is, John. I should know. I have spent many night
s right here myself,” my dad spoke up.

  Everybody laughed. I felt a little more comfortable. Like maybe my parents weren’t going to kill me. Or maybe they at least wouldn’t kill John.

  Back in the kitchen, once my mom had me chopping and boiling away, she grilled me on everything I knew about John and everything about us. She didn’t quite believe me when I insisted I hadn’t stolen him from anybody. But it was the truth. Mostly. I mean, he came to me. I’d been leaving him alone . . . but only because he made me? Ah, well. And of course I left out some choice tidbits. Mom didn’t need to know all the raunchy details.

  I told her that I hadn’t wanted to leave him alone with no family and all his friends out of town. And that it’d “slipped my mind” to call her and forewarn her. She didn’t buy that, and neither did I. She told me she didn’t have a problem with “the race thing”. She did, however, have a problem with the “my boyfriend of less than twenty-four hours spending Thanksgiving weekend at her house thing”. By the time dinner was cooked, she still wasn’t happy with me, but at least she no longer wanted to strangle me.

  Chapter 12

  DINNER BY FIRE

  By the time dinner was served, my parents had gotten over the initial shock. My uncle was at work. He worked the evening shift at a truck stop, so we weren’t going to see him until Thanksgiving Day. My mom called him at work so he wouldn’t have a fit when he came in and saw a stranger on the couch that night.

  My mom spread her napkin over her lap and asked, “John. What do your parents do?”

  John stopped chewing. I knew he didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t know whether I was more pissed at myself or at him that I didn’t want him to talk about it for the same reason. Obviously, the Riches were in no league remotely near the Archers.

  “Oh, well, they work in the city. New York City. Manhattan,” he said, pushing potatoes around on his plate.

  I watched his fork, not daring to look up.

  “Really. They commute? Denise. Your Aunt Hattie lives in New York. You know. The Bronx,” Mom said.